


Crash & Burn

by starryeyedchar



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Car Accidents, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Major Character Injury
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-31
Updated: 2017-08-02
Packaged: 2018-12-09 12:47:12
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,690
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11669421
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starryeyedchar/pseuds/starryeyedchar
Summary: When Keith’s car breaks down, he has to resort to calling Lance to help him out, since everyone else is busy. Keith is surprised that Lance is actually willing to help, but then... he doesn’t show up.Or the one where Lance gets into a car accident while coming to help Keith, and it’s actually not his fault.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is a two part, thank you fic since I reached 1,000 followers on tumblr! I've been on a bit of a fluffy kick lately, but this is my return to angst! The majority of what you'll be seeing from me soon is angsty. I hope you enjoy!

Keith was beginning to think that the universe hated him.

Sure, everybody gets bad luck, but his life was just getting ridiculous at this point.

Of _course_ the car had to break down. Keith was only using it because his motorcycle had stopped working last week, so the old pickup was all he had. And of _course_ everyone else was busy. Then again, that's why he'd chosen to run errands that night. Because all his friends had plans.

He'd already tried calling Shiro, but he was with Matt at some family thing. Pidge, naturally, had to be there, too. Hunk was on his date night with Shay, and Allura was out of town. And the car was refusing to restart.

Even if he had managed to maneuver the truck into a gas station before it checked out completely, he was nowhere near walking distance to his apartment.

Keith knew his only remaining options were either to call Lance or a tow truck, and he really didn't feel like waiting for the latter, not that Lance was a much better alternative. When was Lance _ever_ on time? Still, getting a ride home and calling the tow truck in the morning was definitely preferable to dealing with the whole mess in the middle of the night.

He didn't know if Lance had plans, but he _was_ sure that he would just tease him, and probably refuse to offer up any sort of help whatsoever.

Knowing he had no other choice, however, Keith called his number.

The phone was picked up on the fourth ring, and Lance yawned before speaking. “Heya, Keith. Do you realize what time it is?”

He glanced at the clock. “It's only a little after eleven. You were already asleep?”

“I _told_ you, a certain amount of beauty sleep is required to make myself a reality,” Lance replied. “And I have work tomorrow.”

Keith winced. “Sorry, I really hate to bother you—”

“Well, that's new.”

“But my car broke down, and everyone else is busy, and... I was wondering if you could maybe come pick me up?” he asked, words coming out in a rush.

“Keith.” He could hear the disapproval in Lance's tone even over the line. “What are you even doing out this late?”

“Um... running errands?”

“At nearly midnight?” Lance sounded thoroughly unimpressed, and Keith was already wondering how long a tow truck would take.

“Some stores are open late, for the record! And I've been sitting here for a while,” Keith argued weakly.

Lance sighed dramatically. “Fine. What street are you on, and do you need me to bring anything?”

“Wh-what?” Keith asked intelligently, not sure if he'd heard right.

If he could see Lance, he knew there would be a very exaggerated eye roll. “I'm coming to get you in a minute, dumbass. Text me what street you're on, and I'll get you a black coffee and a blueberry muffin. I know how much you like them.”

“Uh...?”

“I'm. Going. To. Starbucks,” Lance said slowly, emphasizing each word. “The one near me's open twenty-four hours, and we can't have me falling asleep at the wheel. Unless this is just your secret plot to kill me.”

“You're getting... Starbucks.”

“Yes, that's what I said, pay attention,” Lance deadpanned. “Hope you don't mind waiting an extra five, maybe ten minutes, but I'll get you something to make up for it.”

“Oh,” Keith managed to get out, completely dumbstruck. “You know, if you don't want to do this, you really don't have to. I can just call somebody to—”

“Relax, Keith, it's fine. I'm up already, anyway,” Lance reasoned, and Keith heard a door slam on the other end. “I don't know why you're so surprised. I get calls like this from Hunk and Pidge all the time. Just text me where you are and I'll be there soon. Sit tight.” He hung up.

“It's not like I'm going anywhere,” Keith grumbled, to no one in particular, as he shot Lance a text message.

**Keith** : Parked in the gas station on 4th street.

**Lance** : nice we can leave ur car there overnight. b there soon.

**Keith** : Great. Don't text and drive.

He still couldn't fathom why Lance was so willing to help him. Sure, he did favors for Hunk and Pidge constantly, but Keith hadn't realized he'd get the same treatment. He probably wouldn't have done the same, all things considered.

* * *

Keith knew that patience was something he lacked, as Shiro often reminded him. But still, he found himself getting irritated the longer it took Lance to arrive.

Sure, he was going to Starbucks, but the coffee place was pretty close to where Keith was stuck, wasn't it? He definitely should've showed up by now.

Suddenly it hit him, and Keith felt like a complete idiot. No wonder Lance didn't tease him, the whole thing was probably a prank designed to keep Keith stuck longer! He called Lance back angrily, expecting the other boy to answer through bouts of laughter. But he didn't pick up.

Lance always, _always_ , answered his phone. If it was a joke, he would've told Keith to call a tow truck, then hung up. Instead, Keith was left listening to Lance's painfully cheery voicemail.

“Hey, it's Lance! I can't get to my phone right now, but you know what do after the—!” he broke off to give way for a loud beep. Keith stared at his phone for a moment, bewildered, and hung up the call.

Just as he was about to try again, a message popped across his screen.

**Shiro** : we're done here. still need someone to pick you up?

Keith started to type a response, but Shiro sent another one.

**Shiro** : might take a while, though. i heard there was a pretty bad accident by the starbucks, and it's holding up traffic.

The phone dropped from Keith's hands.

Lance had sounded ridiculously tired, and if he was on his phone texting Keith on _top_ of that, then what if—

_No_. No, no, _nonono._

It wasn't possible.

Keith was out of his car in a moment. The Starbucks wasn't too far, he could walk there if he stuck to the grass. Well, more like run there, in this case. He couldn't see it from the gas station, though; he had to go down a hill first.

He drew up short when he saw the sirens. Sounding loudly into the otherwise silent night, it was a wonder Keith hadn't heard them before. The flashing lights cast a glow over the scene— blue, red, blue, and red again.

Blue, Lance's car, with a crumpled hood and a shattered windshield. Red, the blood that had somehow made its way onto the pavement.

This was all Keith's fault.

He sucked in a breath, and began to stumble down the hill as fast as his legs would carry him. The other person's car wasn't anywhere near as damaged. The driver stood beside it, swaying lightly on his feet. Keith thought it might be a concussion before he got close enough and he caught the smell. Saw the bottle still in his hand.

Rage flooded his system, because this wasn't Lance's fault at all. He wasn't stupid, wouldn't have decided to get Keith unless he could drive safely, of course he wouldn't.

But the other driver was drunk. _Well_ over the acceptable limit, if his slightly dazed expression was any indication.

Someone was putting him in handcuffs, reading off rights, arresting him for 'driving under the influence.'

A witness was muttering about how the drunk driver swerved into the other lane without warning, crashing into the blue car head on.

Another officer was attempting to push Keith from the scene, even as he struggled closer, shouting something. All this fell away as he stared at Lance's car.

The glass of the windshield had rained down, leaving traces of small cuts over him, and strewn across the street. Lance was covered in blood, from what injuries Keith couldn't tell, but at least some of it was from his head, which rested against the dash. He didn't move a muscle, his eyes were shut. Firemen were trying to get the doors open, to get to him. Keith couldn't even tell if he was _breathing_.

But he was close enough that he could see the two coffees in the cup holders beside Lance's limp form. One plain, and one topped with a ridiculous amount of whipped cream, although now they were half toppled over, both probably spilled and full of shattered glass.

Keith held back a sob.

And then one of the firemen was checking Lance's pulse, and he didn't say anything for a moment, and Keith finally felt his knees give out from under him because _oh god, Lance is_ dead _._

And then he was announcing a heartbeat, but “He's losing a lot of blood! We've got to get him to the ER!”

And Keith was rushing forward, demanding to be let in the ambulance, because that was one of his _best friends_ bleeding out on that stretcher. The words hurt to say.

As they sped to the hospital, Keith refused to let go of Lance's hand. He was fitted with an oxygen mask, but his eyes didn't open once the whole way there.

Keith kept seeing the scene in his minds' eye, unable to think or process much of anything else. The way everything had just looked so broken, even Lance, who was supposed to be all jokes and lively smiles. Not silent and bleeding, like this. Never like this.

Before he knew what was happening, Lance was being rushed into some surgery or another that he needed. Something about imbedded glass, the possibility of internal damage or a concussion. And Keith sat in the waiting room, staring at his hands. The one that had been holding Lance's was covered in blood.

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aftermath of the crash. Lance wakes up.

Lance blinked wearily, as his vision slowly focused on what appeared to be a white ceiling above him. The bright, florescent lighting hurt to look at, so he turned his head to the side, once again squeezing his eyes shut. When he opened them, the sight before him made no sense.

He was lying in a bed, in a room he didn't recognize. Slumped in the chair beside him was a clearly asleep Keith Kogane. Lance belatedly realized that Keith was tightly holding onto his hand, and he couldn't help but blush in embarrassment, even if the main emotion he felt was still confusion.

Lance looked around, and tried to remember how he'd ended up in this situation. He would've tried to sit up, but consciousness brought with it a harsh ache in his side, and a migraine as well.

Suddenly, it all came rushing back. Driving to pick up Keith, only to be blinded by the headlights of a car that was _definitely_ not supposed to be in Lance's lane and then... nothing. Despite having a reputation among his friends for not being very bright, Lance was smart enough to connect the dots that he must've been in a car accident. Which meant the bed he was lying in was located in a hospital room.

He slowly tugged his hand out of Keith's grasp in order to feel the lump of bandages at his side. Sighing, he successfully managed to sit up with only one or two small whimpers of pain. He glanced back at Keith, and nearly toppled off the hospital bed.

He was sitting up straight in the chair, eyes fixed on Lance, his lips slightly parted. When he made no move to speak, Lance took initiative.

“ _Mierda_ , Keith,” Lance breathed, placing a hand to his chest. “You're supposed to _say_ something when you wake up in these kind of situations! Not that you'd know that, but seriously! You nearly gave me a heart attack!” The word choice might've not been the smartest, considering recent circumstances. Lance didn't miss the small flinch from Keith at his statement.

“You're okay,” Keith said simply, eyes searching his form.

Lance shifted uncomfortably. “It would seem so,” he tried for a grin. “Sorry to disappoint, but you won't be able to get rid of me that easily.”

Keith just continued to stare at Lance, so intensely that the other boy thought might be about to slap him. Instead, he did something that was much more surprising, at least in Lance's opinion. Keith practically launched himself out of his chair, and before Lance could react he was wrapped up in a hug.

Lance didn't think he'd ever gotten a hug from Keith before. It was nice, if a little bone-crushing. “Woah there, go easy on my ribs, Keith. Pretty sure they're a little... well, very bruised.”

Keith drew back quickly, sitting back down. “Right. Sorry,” he mumbled.

Lance wanted to say something more, maybe to try and get Keith to cheer up as he seemed pretty shaken, but he was interrupted by the door bursting open.

“ _Lance_!” Hunk all but shouted. “I got here as fast as I could! I had to get Shay home and she lives pretty far— are you okay? How bad is it? When they called, they told me some stuff over the phone, but—”

“Hunk, calm down,” Lance smiled at his best friend. “I'm fine, okay?”

“Fine? _Fine_?! Three broken ribs? So much glass that you needed _surgery_ to get all of it out?” Hunk planted his hands on his hips, and Lance wished he could disappear under the sheets. “You nearly got a concussion, Lance! What were you even _doing_ out this late?”

Lance opened his mouth to argue back, but Keith spoke before he got the chance.

“That's... actually my fault. My car broke down, and I called him to see if he could pick me up at the gas station,” he stared at his shoes. “I feel terrible about what happened.”

“Don't worry about it,” Lance said quickly. Hunk was far less amused.

“Lance, you have work!” he protested. “Driving around when you're exhausted isn't going to help anyone, it's just going to get you hurt!”

Lance sighed, exasperated. “Did you even _listen_ to what they told you over the phone? You're supposed to be my emergency contact! The crash wasn't my fault, I did everything right! I was wearing my seat belt and everything! The guy in the other car was black-out drunk, and swerved into my lane to crash into me head-on!”

Hunk's features softened. “Admittedly, I may have been panicking a little too much about whether you were _okay_ to really listen to the details of _how_ it happened.”

Lance shook his head, smiling fondly. “You've seen me in worse situations than this, Hunk. I wish you wouldn't worry about me so much. I'll be _fine_.”

“The fact that something like this is just a common occurrence for you by now doesn't make me feel that much better,” Hunk pointed out. “Your bad luck and lack of self preservation skills are astonishing.” Lance laughed at that.

“Hunk's your emergency contact?” Keith asked curiously. “Why?”

“My family lives in Cuba, but I go to school here,” Lance explained. “Someone close by would be notified first, and then later tell my parents to— oh, _fuck_ , I have to tell my family! What am I going to say?! Mom's gonna kill me!”

Keith's brows furrowed. “She's going to kill you for nearly dying?”

“Sounds about right for your mom, honestly,” Hunk placed a comforting hand on his friend's shoulder. “But I'll call her for you. You should be resting, anyways.” He stepped back into the waiting room, and Lance slumped further into his pillows.

“I've done my fair share of resting for today,” he mumbled.

There was a lull of silence in which they each avoided the other's gaze.

“That was pretty scary, for a second there,” Keith finally spoke up.

“Sorry,” Lance stared at the floor, so he didn't see Keith's surprised gaze snap to him. “I don't know how long you were stuck waiting there for me. Did Hunk call you?”

Keith's eyes widened, almost imperceptibly. “Oh. No, I was— my car was close by. I rode here with you in the ambulance, actually.”

Lance groaned, burying his face in his hands. “And now you're stuck here.”

“Shiro can just pick me up from here in a bit,” Keith told him. “It's not a problem. I... I _wanted_ to be here.”

Lance didn't seem to have heard the last part, as Keith barely whispered it. “The whole point of you calling me was so you could get home faster, and now you're waiting for me at the hospital. And I ruined Hunk's date, too!”

“What?” Keith was confused, to say the least. “Lance, you didn't ruin anything. The crash was the other driver's fault, and you didn't even do anything wrong.”

Lance frowned. “I could've done... something to avoid collision. Is... is he okay?”

“The guy in the other car?” Keith asked incredulously. “He was drunk, and he was in _your_ lane! He shouldn't have been...” he broke off at Lance's expression, and sighed. “He's fine, but you're not! Your car took nearly all the damage, and you probably would've died if your air bag hadn't worked!”

“Well, then it's a good thing that _one_ of us has a fully functioning car,” Lance smirked, and Keith groaned. “Or had. I'm guessing my car is as wrecked as I am right about now. I expect you to give me rides everywhere in your motorcycle from now on, once it's working again. After all this, you owe me.”

“How can you still manage to be this infuriating, even after being injured?” Keith wondered, running a hand through his hair.

Lance's grin just widened. “It's one of my many talents,” he bragged. “How can _you_ manage to yell at someone who just got injured?”

“I'm not yelling at _you,_ I'm just— I'm frustrated, in general! With everything that's happened! With your ridiculously bad luck, I guess. I thought my car _breaking down_ was bad.”

“You and me, both,” Lance deadpanned, gesturing at the various bandages. “When will the universe give either of us a break, huh? We may never know.”

Hunk stuck his head in. “You've already _got_ several breaks,” he said, pointing towards Lance's ribs. “And if you want them to heal, it's going to be a lot of lying down and ice packs for you. _Definitely_ no motorcycle rides. Oh, and by the way, your mom says hi. She's also seriously worried, which is understandable. Count your blessings that I'm talking to her, because you sound about as terrible as you look, raspy voice and all. And I _told_ her that you're resting, so you better hurry up and get on that because I hate lying to people, _especially_ your mom.”

Lance winced, letting out a cough that seemed to prove his point. “Stupid lungs,” he muttered under his breath, before giving Hunk a weak smile. “You're a saint.” The other boy returned into the hall, pressing the phone back to his ear.

“I was too,” Keith whispered, and Lance thought he must've imagined it.

He raised an eyebrow. “A saint?”

Keith probably would've hit him if Lance wasn't already in a hospital bed. “ _No_ ,” he scowled at the floor. “I was worried, you idiot! This whole thing is my fault, I shouldn't have called you so late. Should've just gotten a tow truck or something.”

“Hey,” Lance insisted, causing Keith to look at him. “How many favors do I owe _you_ by now? Driving to get you was the least I could do. Granted, I still expect super cool motorcycle rides, but blame the drunk driver, or even me, not yourself.”

Keith smiled softly. “You really should be sleeping, Lance. I think visiting hours are supposed to be over, anyway.”

“Hunk's still here,” Lance argued.

“He's your emergency contact, and he's the one who contacted your family. He kind of _has_ to be here,” Keith pointed out.

Lance crossed his arms, pouting. “ _Fine_.”

Keith had to smother the laugh before it escaped his lips. “But I'll come back tomorrow, if you want me to.”

Lance's eyes widened, turning back to Keith immediately. “With Starbucks?” he asked hopefully.

Keith hesitated. “I don't really know if that's—”

“ _With Starbucks_?”

“With Starbucks,” Keith agreed, rolling his eyes fondly. He stood, starting to make his way over to the door. “Now get some rest.”

“Wait!” Lance reached without thinking, grabbing his arm before he could leave. Keith turned back around, looking at him expectantly. For once in his life, Lance couldn't seem to find the right words. “Um... this whole thing has got me thinking, and I was wondering... if you maybe would want to... uh,” He stammered weakly, feeling a blush spread over his face. A small, irritatingly smug smile had replaced the look of confusion on Keith's face. Lance started to speak again, determined to get out a full coherent sentence out this time, but then Keith was leaning in and—

Holy shit, Keith freaking Kogane was _kissing him._

That was the only initial thought Lance could process at first, and then he was melting into it, as if nothing else in the entire world mattered, terrible luck be damned. And it was over way too soon, in Lance's opinion, even if he had to catch his breath after they finally broke apart.

“ _Now_ can I go?” Keith asked, still with that barely visible, half-smirk.

“Only if you _promise_ to come back tomorrow. We should probably, you know, talk about... _that,_ but as much as I hate to admit you're right, I'm actually about to pass out.”

Keith snorted, and it was so adorable that Lance almost changed his mind about letting him leave. “I promise. Now _seriously_ , get some sleep.”

“Yessir.” Lance saluted as Keith walked out of the room, unable to stop the goofy smile that came over his face.

The few times Lance had been in a hospital before, he always had trouble sleeping. The beds were slightly uncomfortable, the rooms too unfamiliar and plain. But that night when he closed his eyes, he started dreaming almost immediately.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed!!!

**Author's Note:**

> Keep in mind; two part fic.


End file.
